A/N: Wow, this was tricky to write. But I'm glad I pulled though.
Hope you like it~
Sherlock hesitated before walking through the doors to the lab. The blood, although not as fresh, still stuck out and the looming threat of Moriarty's promise hung over his heart. Aware that something was wrong, John looked up at him, only to miss the tightened jaw before he confidently pushed through the doors. They were met with a cold burst of air, the chill was so distinct they could almost see their breath in front of them. Despite the temperatures, the room was bustling with activity as the forensic team documented and examined the crime. Lestrade was by the corner when he heard the doors swing open.
"Sherlock?" He gaped as he approached them. "I thought you were leaving today."
"Yes I know I'm back. I'd prefer if you could tell me what I want to know about what you've collected so far, assuming your team hasn't destroyed any valuable evidence."
John let out a resigned sigh as Lestrade tried not to look offended.
"Sorry, Greg we're a bit on edge."
"No, I understand." He smiled weakly. "How is she?"
"She just got out of A&E," John answered when Sherlock didn't respond. "She'll be fine. We're just waiting for her to wake up."
"Oh thank God." Lestrade let out a sigh of relief. "When we first got her and saw all the blood… I'm glad she's okay."
Sherlock turned his head to regard the DI. He was in casual clothes –suggesting he had been off duty today—and voluntarily chose to take charge in this case. Given the short time it all had transpired, he had no doubt Mycroft had something to do with getting him on board so quickly.
"Greg why is it freezing in here?"
"We're not sure. Things started getting cold when we arrived and the staff hasn't been able to keep the temperatures from dropping."
"Not an accident I'm sure." Sherlock walked swiftly to examine the counters. The temperatures had formed a thin layer of mist, tracking every smudge or swipe on the surface. He maneuvered around the room, examining the walls and floors, looking for unusual disturbances.
They watched him make his round around the room when John turned his attention to the pool of blood. The occasional camera from a member flashed over the coagulated blood. Now that he wasn't in a clinical mood, John was able to take in the fact that what lay before him was a crime scene. The scene trigged unwanted recollections of friends bleeding out at the front lines, and John was forced to turn away.
"Did you find anything else?"
"Well you probably know this but there are barely signs of a struggle. No indication the perpetrator broke in either."
"Obviously. They most likely strolled right in." Sherlock noted quietly.
"They?" John and Lestrade asked simultaneously. That fact seemed to have escaped him and Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"The scuffles by the table." He pointed to the dark marks on the floor. "Judging from the bruised wrists Molly had, it would be safe to say she was held in place when her wrists were sliced open. His mouth twitched at the last deduction. "Moriarty's vendetta would have motivated him harm her himself, so the other man's purpose was to keep her from struggling, which she didn't happen to do. Why didn't she fight?"
The last question had been mumbled whisper for his benefit. Having that level of control in a life-threatening situation was an unlikely. Something else must have transpired to explain that, but that wasn't readily deducible in the situation. Sherlock looked up at the corners of the wall. "Did the camera catch anything?"
"No, it was fried by the time we got here but but IT thinks they could retrieve some footage. Hang on, you think Moriarty is behind this?"
"It don't think, I know he is behind this."
"Moriarty." Lestrade rubbed his face exhaustively. "How is he back?"
"I have a few pending theories." Sherlock replied distractedly. There was something covering the lens of the camera. The mist had uncovered a smudge made on the lens. No, not a smudge. He turned back to drag a chair under the camera. It was a rubbed drawing; hastily made, but still recognizable. An eye, shaped more like an O when he looked carefully. Like a trigger, the camera whirred to life, red light blinking to a steady glare.
"Lestrade call off your team. I need them out right now."
"What is it?"
"Just do it!"
The men and women looked about in confusion as Lestrade apologetically ushered them out. "Everybody wait out by the door. Won't be a moment," he called out before shutting the door on them.
"Okay," he turned around. "Sherlock what's this about?"
"The camera's working fine."
"What?" John gaped.
"There's nothing wrong with it." He jumped of the chair and began pacing.
"How can it be working? The security team and confirmed it was broken."
"And when was that?"
The DI deliberated for a moment. "It was one of the first things we checked so about an hour ago."
That meant everything was compromised. "Damn, it." Sherlock hissed. He should have gotten here sooner. Don't cloud your judgment, Mycroft's voice carried through his mind. Think of the motive.
"Think, think!" He stopped suddenly, shutting his eyes. It didn't help. It was a deliberate altercation, one that may be one to bring attention away or towards something. But what?
"Lestrade," he called out, eyes still closed. "Has there been any unusual items recovered so far?"
"No, nothing. We were hoping to find the blade or brush to get some DNA but nothing came up."
"Brush?" Sherlock whirled around to throw him a bewildered stare. "Why a brush?"
"The one that painted the letters on the door. One of the forensic members catalogued the patterns."
"Oh, stupid!" He ran past them to open the doors. The members startled at his suddenness and Sherlock immediately scanned their faces.
"All of you step back," he ordered. The crowd blinked back in response. "I said step back before I have every one of you incriminated for manipulating evidence." An immediate response followed his threat and they away.
"Sherlock what's going on?" John walked out to the hall with Lestrade following after.
"I've missed something and of these people is going to help point it out."
"What?"
"Moriarty knew I would drive them out when I suspected interference. Force me to consider everything again." He turned to face the glaring red letters on the door. This was the only piece of evidence his evacuation would have distracted him from examination. Therefore it should be what he's supposed to focus on.
He shut his eyes once more, trying to reconcile the image and he first received to the letters before them now. It didn't take long to realize the difference, and he mentally smacked himself for not seeing it earlier.
"Was that line in the 'O' that long before?"
John and Lestrade moved away from the door to see what he was pointing out.
"There." He pointed to the center of the letter. "The stroke of the brush indicates it was drawn from the top, painted counterclockwise but the circle doesn't close at the top. The end stroke was swiped down towards the center. It's longer than before." The men frowned at the letters, clearly unable to see what he did.
Sherlock let out a frustrated sigh and pulled out his mobile to tap a rapid text out. He then turned to face the silent group, narrowing down the their physical cues until one individual fit the marks.
"You." He indicated to short mid-sized man who all but jumped. "You were in charge of collecting samples from this correct?"
"Y-yes."
"What letter did you gather a sample from?"
The man hesitated for a moment.
"What. Letter," he pressed.
"T-the 'I'. Top stroke, left corner."
"Then could you explain to us why you felt the need to paint over all the letters?"
"What?" he squeaked.
"I see you're left handed." Sherlock continued, walking slowly towards the man. "Must have been difficult tracing the end of the 'O' when your hand inconveniently covers your line of sight. And I noticed your hands shook towards the end of the stroke. Probably got nerves, right?" He smiled sympathetically, only for it to fall to a deadpan face. "Worried about being caught in the middle of tainting evidence?"
He stopped right in front of the man. "Unless you were meant to be helping." The rest of the team had since taken a cautious step away, leaving him alone to feel the wrath of the consulting detective that bore a frightening smile on his face.
"Cooling the room would certainly have helped drying the blood but you should have realized the layers would be inconsistent. Honestly, are you really a forensic scientist? You should have realized a cloth was originally used to paint the letters and that using a brush would have left different streaks. Oh."
A slow grin rose up to his face as he took in the man's paling complexion. "Didn't think to question orders? Pity he didn't brief you on your inevitable capture."
He turned around to face the door, arms amicably placed behind his back. "It sort of looks like an eye right now doesn't it? That's how your employer gave you away."
The man was visibly shaking now, and Sherlock's lighthearted demeanor fell away to give the man a menacing glare.
"You have less than 30 seconds to deliver your message from him before great harm comes your way. And don't think of running." Sherlock whispered when the man tensed up. "I guarantee you won't get very far."
"I didn't have a choice!" he spluttered. "He swore he would kill—"
"I don't care why you did it just tell me what he wants me to know."
A tense silence followed his words and Sherlock's patience finally wore thin. Without warning, he grabbed the man's collar and pushed him hard against the wall, positioning his forearm uncomfortably under the man's neck.
"Should I go on?"
"He s-said he was worried you wouldn't catch on." He coughed when Sherlock applied more pressure against his trachea. "w-w-anted to make s-sure you would see it."
"Lovely." He immediately released him, and patted his cheek before standing to his full height.
The man broke into a sprint away from them all, bouldering people as he scrambled to get away from them.
"Wha-get him!" Lestrade cried out to the dumbfounded officers.
Sherlock watched on lazily as he made his escape.
"Don't bother. Mycroft's men are waiting for him around the corner."
"What just happened?"
John was still in a daze as he watched officers come in to question the forensic team. The crime scene was suspended until a new group could be assigned to the location.
"It would seem that Moriarty doubted my competence. Thought I might need help noticing this." Sherlock carefully scrapped a sample from the surface.
"Noticing what?" John asked as he watched Sherlock store it into a small airtight container before dropping it into his pocket.
"That the blood isn't just Molly's."
Sherlock's mobile beeped an alert, and he reached into the other. His mouth thinned to a grim line as he read it.
Bull's-eye
A/N: I'm new to writing the intricacies of masterminds. I really hope it worked. Review/PM for thoughts?